Shrine To Dreamtime
by Phayze
Summary: Magic and Malfoy. An accident in the summer twists the lives of several people. Eventual HD.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Well, if you are reading this right now, I assume that you do have some sort of passion for fanfiction and Harry Potter. And if you think that I wrote Harry Potter, well.....in the wise words of my friend Angel, just turn around right now. My name is not J.K. Rowling, nor does it even begin with a J and there is no way that I will ever be as good a writer as her or some of the other authors on this site. Have fun reading!  
  
Warning: I am not trying to intentionally hurt all of you fanfiction fans with my terrible ideas.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
SHRINE TO DREAMTIME  
  
Chapter 1: Lights Go Out  
  
Lights go out and I can't be saved.  
  
In all the twists and turns of human emotions in the universe, one thing never changes: fear. Even when it's all done, finished, fear still remains. It lingers in the depths of the mind, dark black voids which memory skims over. And only when the sparks of the daily conscience at the surface have dimmed does fear arise. It builds through the void and escapes in spurts, vomiting pestilence all over a vulnerable and tender mind invoking panic, and power, beyond control.  
  
With a flash of green light and the sudden dimming of silver-grey eyes in the dark aftermath, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, awoke from yet another nightmare.  
  
Kicking off the light sheet, he arose and walked over to the window to open it shivering a little as the cool night air kissed the small beads of sweat in the pores of his skin. The clock by his bedside read 5:00 a.m. It was the last day of summer and tomorrow Harry would be on the Hogwarts Express with his two best friends travelling to his home. Maybe then, he thought, as he glanced at the full moon, the nightmares would end.  
  
The evil voice echoed in his head again, "Kill the spare," a voice dripping with malice and hatred. This dream, however, had been different. Harry vaguely remembered the details and with each passing moment, the dream seemed to slip away from him. All he knew was that Lord Voldemort had murdered, yet again. The unusual thing was that in the darkness behind the origin of the curse, Harry had seen two silver-grey eyes alight with an inner fire that was extinguished at the moment it was performed.  
  
Shrugging and stretching his cramped muscles, Harry began to get ready to head downstairs to make breakfast. The Dursley's had been making him do all the housecleaning and yard work as recompense for the damage caused to the living last summer. Number 4 at Privet Drive was not a large house, but the workload was punctuated with Dudley's frequent parties (an exchange for the unattainable outrageous number of presents). Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon often went out during Dudley's parties leaving Harry with all the tough Smelting bullies who watched him dangerously staring him up and down and licking their lips as he went about cooking and cleaning.  
  
'It has definitely been on of the worst summers ever' thought Harry.  
  
To top it all, Ron and Hermione had not been writing as frequently as usual. It seems Hermione had gone to spend time with the Weasleys and Dumbledore would not allow them to come and rescue Harry. Something about his being safest with his aunt and uncle. Harry really did not see the logic in that argument. He was rapidly losing weight from being underfed and working so much and Vernon had developed a strange enjoyment in physically hurting Harry. It was those nightmares, however, that stressed him out the most. Constant thoughts of Cedric, the shadows of his Mum and Dad, and the knowledge that each of his dreams about Voldemort were actually real and happening at that very moment. Harry wished for anything to stop the pain and evil in his life. He needed happiness, freedom, and especially love.  
  
Perhaps it was the unique tone in their letters, or the fact that they scarcely wrote, but something gave Harry the impression that Ron and Hermione were having a lot more fun together without him than he was.  
  
Harry was jerked out of his train of thought as Uncle Vernon thundered down the stairs to a hot breakfast already waiting. This last week of the summer, Aunt Petunia and Dudley had gone to visit Uncle Vernon's mother. Harry uncle, who could not take time off from work, had no qualms about taking advantage of his physical strength. Ever since Professor Dumbledore had written a letter to the Dursley's about the events surrounding Cedric's death, Vernon no longer was afraid of his nephew, who, without his magic and his godfather, was weak and useless. Numerous times, the skin had been stripped off Harry's back peeling in shreds as Uncle Vernon's leather belt tore through him. After a while, the yells began to cease and pain became a steady pulsating way of life for Harry. This was unfortunate as Vernon took great delight in the cries of pain. Aunt Petunia and Dudley's removal had opened the door to a whole new torture as Uncle Vernon held back none of his rage. Without Petunia to keep him in check, Harry had been forced to serve Vernon drink after drink, aphrodisiacs to his uncle's temper.  
  
After breakfast, Uncle Vernon stormed out of the house, but not before delivering a couple hard cuffs to Harry's head. "Don't you be messing up or damaging the house while I'm gone, boy! D'you hear? I want everything in perfect order when I come back and my drink waiting for me!" With that he slapped Harry's cheek, which flung his glasses off his face and thundered out the door.  
  
Harry, eyes burning with shame, picked up his glasses and went up to the bathroom. As he stripped his clothes, peeling the cloth fro the sensitive skin still healing on his back, he happened to glance at his reflection in the mirror. Instead of Harry Potter, Boy Hero, he saw a scrawny skeleton. He was sure that it was not natural for so many of his ribs to penetrate the skin so sharply and the black hollows under his eyes gave his face a haunting look. But most terrible of all was the intricate pattern of silvery-white scars, old combined with new, weaving their way throughout the fresh and raw cuts from the night before. These were enhanced by the glowing emerald orbs. Never had anyone's eyes reflected a more ghostly soul.  
  
Each hit had crumbled the already fading remnants of walls of determination and will within Harry. He was a murderer, there was no denying the truth. If he had never been born, both Cedric and his parents would still be alive. Turning from the mirror, Harry stepped over to the bathtub, turned on the water, and watched it fill up. When it was ready, he stepped into the tub and lowered himself into the boiling heat, wincing at the tingling of the bloody wounds on his frail body.  
  
Tides that I tried to swim against.  
  
He took a deep breath, lay back, and dreamt of death.  
  
Confusion never stops.  
  
'This is the end' thought Harry. 'I will join my parents, if they still want a murderer for a son. I'll finally be free'.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp pain entered his scar, consuming his whole body and Harry sprang up from underneath the water. Struggling, he managed to climb out of the bathtub just before he passed out on the floor.  
  
Closing walls.and ticking clocks.  
  
************  
  
A door slammed. "Boy! Where's my drink? Where the hell are you?"  
  
Footsteps thundered up the stairs and Harry's groggy brain just managed to register what was happening before Vernon bashed open the door, took one look at Harry and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. Vernon dragged him downstairs and threw him onto the ground, still naked. Then beginning to bellow at Harry, "THIS HAS GONE TOO FAR YOU FILTHY LITTLE BEAST!!!", Vernon began pulling bottle after bottle out of the wine cupboard, plastering himself all the while kicking Harry, who was far too weak to move.  
  
Just then, Harry sprang up, mind wide and alert, and started struggling like mad as he felt a heavy weight on top of him. Vernon grabbed his hair and pushed his face into the carpet while holding down his arms behind his back. Harry yelled as he felt the bone break and then started screaming shrilly with what he felt next. A great hardness was pressed up against him and Harry could hear the fumbling of a belt and zipper.  
  
You've got me down upon my knees.  
  
Immediately panic arose in every fibre of his body and despite his broken arm, he pushed himself up with all his effort and began to struggle again. But Vernon was not going to stand for the insolence of his nephew. With a swift movement and all the fuel alcohol provides he slammed home breaking the will and mind, tearing it to shreds and forever wounding the leftover pieces.  
  
Harry screamed, screamed until his voice died and was reduced to murmurs. "Please.no.Uncle Vernon, please..", he mumbled.  
  
Oh, I beg, I beg and plead.  
  
Pounding, pounding, Harry began to go numb, memory after memory of Cedric and the crack of a belt spinning before his eyes, all natural thought lost, vaguely comprehending what was happening. He peered into the void within his mind and after hesitating on the brink of black darkness, plunged in, endlessly falling. Only then did he notice something rising out of the depths to meet him: power. Pure power. It built and built, overflowing out of the void and suddenly, in an explosion of fiery heat and sound, which shattered all the windows, Harry's world went black.  
  
Hundreds of miles away, a beautiful silver-eyed boy on a broomstick plummeted fifty feet towards the earth.  
  
Hundreds of miles away, an ancient bird burst into white blinding flame startling a tired, weary old man.  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
And thus concludes the first chapter of my first piece of fiction. I do hope you all liked this first chapter. I am a beginner and new to the world of fanfiction authors (hehe Angel). It really because of my friend Angel that I have made this poor, poor attempt..Read and Review if you please.. ;) 


	2. Labyrinth of Galaxies

Disclaimer: If I wanted to be J.K. Rowling, I'd have to die my hair blonde, become incredibly rich, have a baby, and become a genius over night. But since 3 out of 4 are absolutely impossible overnight, I guess I will just have to give all the rightful credit to Ms. Rowling. ************************************************************************  
  
Shrine to Dreamtime 2  
  
Chapter 2: Labyrinth of Galaxies  
  
Oh we're sinking like stones.  
  
There is a point in everyone's life when they wake up and realize that the world they live is not what they believe it to be. Soon they begin to follow their own path. But God forbid that the new future does not comply with the old one mapped out before them. God forbid they do not obey. Then which one do they choose? Which path promises the most success, happiness, and love? What do they follow? Their heart, their mind, or someone else's will?  
  
And so he dreamt. Postponing the decision as long as possible, evaluating and re-evaluating every opportunity until it passed by, waiting for fate to make the first move, Draco dreamt. Every morning he woke up in a haze, exhausted from the night's journey through a labyrinth of galaxies. And just before his mind became receptive to the sensations of the real world, Draco believed. His dream existed. Over the course of the night, he had been reborn into a distant land, and for the one hovering moment between sleep and wake, this land was real.  
  
All that we fought for.  
  
But dreams don't last forever and soon enough an ice blue gaze pierced the recesses of his dream boring him down into eternal power and will.  
  
"Wake up, my little heir," whispered the silky voice of Lucius Malfoy, somewhere in the region directly above his son's face. "It is time for a new year."  
  
A pause, then a little louder, sternly. "Up, Draco! You must leave as soon as you are ready for King's Cross. I will not be joining you today as I have a meeting with Fudge concerning my being reinstated as school governor. Get ready now! And remember everything you have learnt this summer!" With a sweep of his cloak, Lucius Malfoy exited the magnificently draped, black-curtained room.  
  
Draco groaned and slowly struggled to sit up, cursing under his breath as a sharp pain entered his arm and his chest. His ribs were bandaged and his arm was in a sling. What the hell had happened? The last thing Draco remembered was that he had been flying peacefully on his Nimbus 2001 feeling the wind flow over the streamlined curves of his face to entwine in the tangles of his rippling platinum hair. Then all of a sudden, he felt a force building up in his mind and heart. It was an odd feeling, not quite dread, but something deeper. It kept building until he lost feeling in his limbs. Then everything had gone black.  
  
Draco had rolled off his broom and tumbled through the air. Even though he had landed in a pile of leaves, he had broken several of his ribs and an arm, which, thanks to the expert healing skills of his mother, had been mended. The excruciating pain of broken limbs was replaced with a dull throb, a memory of a prior ache.  
  
'I really wonder what happened. Flying doesn't usually make me feel so free that I completely lose touch with my physical body.' He chuckled at the terrible humour. A strange feeling came over him as he felt the corners of his mouth uplift in a tender smile. It felt so long since he had smiled let alone laughed and after this summer he did not think he would ever be able to smile again.  
  
All those place we've gone.  
  
It all started the moment he had come home from school. No, that moment with bloody Potter on the train. Lucius Malfoy, after waiting on the platform for his son, had come barging onto the Hogwarts Express only to find Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle all unconscious, sprawled on the floor covered in boils, mold, and unusual growths. After learning about the circumstances which led to their unique appearances, Lucius, furious and working himself into a rage, had taken Draco home and locked him in his room for a week with only two meals, sent by his personal house-elf, each day.  
  
Lucius was not a nice man. He believed in class, in discipline, and in wealth and he held to these beliefs like a dying man to life. He wanted his son, his heir, to embody these values and achieve whatever greatness had managed to slip its way through his own fingers. Lucius Malfoy lived through his son, who received all the freedom, desires, and opportunity to unreservedly worship darkness, something that Lucius had only dreamt of at the same age. Draco, through whose blood ran the fiery essence of Malfoy and magic, was a promise for a powerful future, the green and silver glow at the end of the tunnel. It screamed the Malfoy name.  
  
All of us are done for.  
  
But that's where it all ended for Draco. He may be one part dream, but he was still nine parts human and those nine parts demanded of him freedom from Lucius' expectations. That delicate freedom was dying and fading, the cause of only one deadly creature too twisted and grotesque to be classified as human life: Lord Voldemort.  
  
After the first downfall, the world turned away from darkness. The world condemned Voldemort, condemned the Death Eaters and that was it. Nobody ever remembered the innocent children of the dark followers. Everyone assumed them to be as evil as their seniors. No one ever remembered that they were only children, who wanted love and peace and friendship. So Draco learnt, at an early age, what it was like to be cruel and evil. He, and the others, learnt that strength lies in power, and in a time when they were forgot by the world of light, Voldemort came to love them enveloping them in a blanket of darkness, luring them into the magic with sweet words of a promised knowledge and power. They followed him with fervent hope that once their goal was achieved, the world would never forget them again.  
  
There's nothing here to run from.  
  
But evil fools the mind, the heart. With him, they discovered pain.and it was not a pleasant experience. Well, at least for those who survived. The ones who succumbed to the torture were strong, but broken, and lived to see the truth.  
  
We live in a beautiful world.  
  
Draco still had the scars. 'Like stupid Potter,' he thought, 'branded by evil, by Voldemort. I'm exactly like Scarhead!' He scoffed at the irony. He hated Harry with a fiery passion, but was gradually becoming Potter himself. First seeker, then the scar. What next, bloody friends with the Mudblood and Weasel? 'Enough on Potter! Stupid fellow's got it all! Fame, friends, the admiration of every bloody person in the wizarding world, and a damn broom that doesn't throw him off in damn mid-air!'  
  
He paused for a moment, then whispered out loud to himself, "Even looks.I'll give him that. The Weasel girl loves him and who knows what Creevey does with all the pictures he takes. I can't even win with looks!" Draco laughed bitterly. "Oh shut up, Draco! He's not worth the energy it requires to think about him!"  
  
Steaming at the ears with a new rage, Draco tumbled out of bed and began to physically and mentally prepare himself for a new year. The old masks slipped back into place and after a summer of toil, he finally felt comfort in routine.  
  
Everybody here's got somebody to lean on  
  
***********  
  
"Ron! You've got dirt on your nose! I say, how ever do you manage to get dirt all over you without doing anything at all?!?"  
  
"I don't know, Hermione! Maybe it comes from being around you and all your old, dusty book all the time!"  
  
"Funny, but the last time I checked, people read with their eyes, Ron, not their noses!" said Hermione, rolling her eyes.  
  
"Then why do they have the phrase '.with his beautiful nose buried in an old book.'?"  
  
"Ron! That phrase is for people who are actually deeply interested in what their reading!"  
  
"And I was deeply interested!" snapped Ron. It was a blatant lie, but he refused to let Hermione win this argument. His dignity had suffered enough at the violent whiplashes of her witty tongue and he could not stand any more loss.  
  
"Honestly, Ron! Am I to believe that you were so engrossed in Hogwarts: A History that you let all the dust collect on your nose?"  
  
"Ah ha! Little did you know that I was actually reading a copy of Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses hidden within that old book!"  
  
"Well, then, if you were reading a new magazine, however did you get dirt on your nose?!?" It was silent as Ron pondered in thought desperately trying to retrieve some of the dignity slipping out of his hands.  
  
"I'm near-sighted and my nose was really caught in the pages of a dirty old book?" he said sheepishly.  
  
"Nice try, Ron, but you still lost the argument." she giggled harder as Ron started spluttering away with excuse after excuse.  
  
"By the way," said Hermione, suspicion growing on her face, "what were you doing with a copy of that dirty magazine, Simply Seasoned Seductive Sorceresses?"  
  
Just then, the train whistle blew, signifying the last chance for students to board the train. Ron, whose spluttering had suddenly ceased, took one glance at the look on Hermione's face, turned around, and scampered off to the door of the train. But before he disappeared into the Hogwarts Express, he turned to Hermione, a smirk on his face and a glint in his eyes, and called out, "I read it for the articles!" With that, he disappeared onto the train. The suspicious look flew off Hermione's face and she burst out laughing as she followed Ron onto the train.  
  
Just as she climbed up the few steps and turned down the hallway, a powerful, velvet-covered arm was thrust out in front of her and out of the first compartment stepped Draco Malfoy, a malicious grin gracing his pale face. Ron, who had turned to see whether Hermione was following him, glared as he saw the blonde and winced at the sound of the sly voice.  
  
"What's this? Mudblood caught out on her own with no Potty and Weasel to defend her? They didn't leave you to go screw each other's brains out in the back compartment, did they?" He clucked his tongue as Ron, flushed red behind him, silently crept closer. "Poor know-it-all. Why don't you come and join the bad boys and have some real fun?"  
  
A fist slammed into his head, Hermione screamed and jumped aside as Draco went face first into the door frame just as the train started to pull away from the platform. Hermione and Ron heard a sickening crack and blood spurted everywhere. Malfoy crumpled to the floor.  
  
************************************************************************  
  
Author's note: You won't believe how amazing it is to actually call myself an author. I may not be that great, but I'm trying. Sorry if this chapter was late, but exams kept me busy for the last couple weeks. I am honestly just making this up as I go, so it sometimes takes a bit of time to get the creative juices (whatever I have) to start flowing. Thank you to all who reviewed my first chapter. You gave me the confidence to post another one. And special thanks to Angel for just being plain cool.  
  
I also apologize for the way this chapter ended so abruptly. It was actually supposed to end with a nice cliff hanger further on, but I've been pressed for time and I really want to get this next chapter posted. More still to come!  
  
By the way, Angel and I are starting our own Harry Potter website and we were wondering if anyone had a fic they would kindly allow us to post on to our website. It is really sort of hard to have a sight with only two stories (Angel's and mine). Thanks everyone, and I will try very hard to get the next chapter up ASAP.  
  
By the way again, the italicized words in both chapters were taking from Coldplay lyrics. The first chapter was Clocks and this chapter was Don't Panic. Stop laughing Angel! 


	3. A Rush of Blood to the Head

Shrine to Dreamtime  
  
Disclaimer: *in old-woman-from-the-old-mother-country voice* I spit on plagiarism.kaput! You know that woman.J.K. Rowling. She is not me. She is not old woman from the old mother country. I spit on those to try to be her.kaput! (Classic Tyla line - Angel should identify with this disclaimer) *********************  
  
Chapter 3: A Rush of Blood to the Head  
  
"Ron, d-did you kill him?"  
  
Nervous and slightly shaken, Hermione stepped passed a thoroughly shocked Ron to the still body of Draco Malfoy. She bent down and placed two fingers on the side of his neck feeling for a pulse. Sighing in relief as she felt the faint throb below the skin, Hermione rose and looked over at Ron.  
  
"Oh great job, Ron! Haven't I told you that fighting never solves anything?"  
  
Ron spluttered and she noticed that familiar disbelief and rage bubbling to the surface. "B-but I.I was defending..you."  
  
"I am quite capable of defending myself, Ronald Weasley. Now close your mouth, you look like a fish, and help me get Malfoy into an empty compartment," she snapped.  
  
"What?! I'm not picking up Ferret-Boy! He can just lie there! He deserves it anyhow."  
  
But Hermione was not one to be argued with. "Ron. Pick him up." She said firmly accompanied by a glare reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.  
  
Grumbling to himself, Ron bent over and gathered the surprisingly lightweight boy in his arms.  
  
"He better not get blood on my robes," he muttered and followed Hermione in search for an empty compartment.  
  
At last, upon finding a deserted compartment at the very back of the train, Ron's arms were relieved of the silver-haired boy's weight. Hermione took out a handkerchief and starting dabbing at the vicious looking cut upon his forehead, and then forced Ron to sit opposite Malfoy and wait for him to wake up. Ron rolled his eyes but sat down anyway.  
  
"You really did quite a number on him, Ron."  
  
"Oh yeah," said Ron rolling his eyes, "Well, that's what I get for trying to help you. Blame the hero!" He paused. "The fact that he is our worst enemy and never refuses any opportunity to completely insult us counts for absolutely nothing, doesn't it?"  
  
Hermione just responded in a glare and took out a book she had been carrying in her shoulder bag settling down for a long read while the train slowly began to move out of Platform 9¾, gather speed, and head for the rolling emerald hillsides of Britain. Ron stared at Draco for a while then gasped suddenly and dropped his head into his hands.  
  
"Mione," he said softly, "where's Harry?"  
  
Hermione sat there for a moment staring at her book, eyes unperceiving, before the realization of the situation hit her like a slap to the face.  
  
"Oh my gosh. We totally forgot about Harry! Did you see him on the Platform at all?" Anxiety filled her voice.  
  
"We looked in all the compartments, Mione. I didn't see him at all. Oh God! What if he got left behind? What if the barrier closed on him again or those stupid Muggles locked him up in his room again." Ron's voice echoed panic.  
  
"Ok," breathed Hermione, "Let's think logically about what to do. I think the best thing would be to write to Dumbledore and tell him that Harry's not on the train. We can't do anything else right now. I just hope that Voldemort hasn't got hold of him or any thing of the sort." She was close to tears and frantic with worry.  
  
"Don't say that." Ron said firmly, "and don't say the name," he hissed after.  
  
Hermione took out a piece of parchment and a quill from her bag and began to write a note to the famous Headmaster. Ron prepared Pigwidgeon, all the while glaring darkly at the silver-haired boy, who was unfortunately still breathing regularly. He was most likely the cause of all their troubles.  
  
Pig was thrust out the window and he bobbed up and down a few times in the slipstream of the train before taking off. Ron, who could not stand to look at Malfoy anymore, went off in search for food and the other fifth-year Gryffindor boys.  
  
Hermione, however, ever the forgiving and dutiful one, sat across from Malfoy waiting for him to wake up perusing her brand new book, Muggles and Ancient Runes. She thought for a moment about Harry and the past summer. He had seemed all right on the train home from school; still strong and confident as ever; surprisingly strong considering all that he had been through. But Harry, although he had the tendency to wear his emotions on his face, had always been strong. So, what happened then? Why is he not here on the train enjoying Malfoy's humiliating situation? What force overpowered his strength and deprived him of the one thing he enjoyed the most: travelling back to Hogwarts, his home.  
  
She hated to admit it, but it was true. Amidst the new discoveries and exciting times with the Weasleys, they had forgotten, no, she had forgotten about Harry. Hermione bit her lip fighting back tears of what they could have caused in their moments of forgetfulness. They had rarely written to Harry during the summer and he had rarely written back. What ever happened to loyalty and friendship? She sniffed and tilted her head back willing the tears to seep slowly back into her head.  
  
Then a sudden movement caught her watery eye and Hermione glanced down just in time to see Draco Malfoy begin to thrash around violently as if in immense pain beyond his control. His mouth opened in a silent scream and his unseeing eyes sprang open as he fell off the compartment seat.  
  
************************* Short chapter. Just wanna say thanks to all who reviewed and that tons more is still to come. So very sorry it took so long to get this chapter up, but I had to wait until my muse remembered that I existed. I spent all yesterday night and this evening writing up the next chapter, which will be much longer and will bring in more characters..I don't think I will post it for a little while yet as I want to see the reaction this chapter gets.  
  
To Angel: See what I sacrificed for fanfiction! I should have been doing my Matrix reflection, but nooooooooo I decided to grace Angel with another chapter and the knowledge that I know the plot and she doesn't. So in fair retaliation, I am telling everybody to go and read Angel's story! It is called Firefly Darkness and her name is Saturnine! It's bloody good, despite everything she says, so go read! I promise if you don't like it, you can leave a review in my review box about how I should stop giving out advice. hehehe  
  
By the way, I'm not a fan of adding new characters to the HP Crew, but I'm thinking of adding someone just for the sake of seeing Angel's reaction. Please tell me what you think, although you may be able to give me a more accurate opinion after you read the next chapter.  
  
I lubba you all! 


	4. Bittersweet Symphony

Shrine to Dreamtime  
  
Disclaimer: I have only three things to say to you: My name is J. K. Rowling and I am a genius I am the creator of all genius-type things including all of Harry Potter The above two statements are false. A gal can't help but hope.  
  
And here it is.....I hope it's good enough.Please don't hurt me if my writing doesn't live up to that of all the other amazing fanfiction writers..  
  
Saturnine: If there are any more calculus rooted catnaps, I will personally stop writing or write Snape completely out of character, or suddenly kill him off. Beware!  
  
Lanevaly: I'm sorry it was so painful for you to read. I did warn all readers, but I still apologize for any horror inflicted upon you. I do hope you continue to read because there is still a lot of angst coming up...eventually =)  
  
suse: Angsty stories about an abused Harry all also my favourite, for some twisted reason. I am glad that you enjoyed the bit with Ron and Hermione. I agree that normally it doesn't really fit, but I cannot write all about Harry and ignore the very two people closest to his heart. Snape will also be making his appearance very very soon. Keep reading! And thanks for the compliment about the abuse scene. I put a lot of effort into writing that scene.  
  
Thank-you's go out to everyone else who reviewed. I truly appreciate it!  
  
**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~~**~~**  
  
Chapter 4: Bittersweet Symphony  
  
"Rule Number One. You are to obey me and our Lord at all times. Rule Number Two. You are a Malfoy descended from a line of purebloods, which you will uphold. Malfoy's are never weak. Rule Number Three. You were made for darkness. Renounce the light and embrace your destiny, my Son. You will fight with us."  
  
The words were emblazoned with flame on Draco's mind; his father's rules of life not open to negotiation. They clearly defined who he was and his sole purpose for existing: no questions asked. Draco was born into darkness embedded in his very soul. There was no hope for him.  
  
It wasn't always so clear, though. Once upon a time, in a dreamland far, far away, was the face of his mother smiling down upon him saying those words he did not ever remember hearing in his life, "I love you, Draco." No, that was a wisp of what could have been and never was nor ever will be. Draco was truly doomed to a life of violence and war in his soul. Ceaseless fighting.killing.a born murderer.torturing Muggles.people, human being who felt emotions.experienced love.  
  
'Love makes them vulnerable', Draco repeated quoting his father. But is it really love or the animalistic desire to survive. 'don't think, Draco,' whispered a voice in the back of his brain. 'just feel.feel the power, Draco',.This time it was Lord Voldemort's soft hissing that echoed in his mind. 'Watch me, Draco, watch me embrace the power, the strength'.  
  
~~~~~~~ It was a young girl of about nine or ten. She had large, round, violet eyes and silky brown locks flowing down her face. Thrown on the floor with tattered clothes gracing her pale skin glued in bloody patches to open wounds and scrapes, her broken body began to shut down.  
  
'Smell the fear, Draco' Voldemort hissed anxiously, his eyes lit with passionate flame as he watched his faithful servants ravish her fragile body spilling the valuable contents of their loins within the broken toy. The screams halted long ago after she had had the first few men and now her wide violet eyes teared, saltiness mingling with the blood forming a clean streaked pathway down her ashen cheek.  
  
'See how helpless they are, Draco. Remove them from comfort and place them around strangers,' his eyes glinted madly, 'and see how quickly they grow up, how quickly they learn to fear. It is the beauty of life.and death, Draco. Embrace it!'  
  
A thing snake-like hand with glinting blood-red spikes on the end of each finger shot out from beneath the folds of the black robe and traced a pathway down the bare stomach delving into the folds of human flesh, splitting and scraping it down the middle. A scream filled the air unlike anything Draco had ever heard before. It was a siren of lost innocence, of fear, of panic, but most of all, of death. It echoed through the silence piercing the air with daggers. Lord Voldemort grabbed Draco's hand and plunged it into the bloody undead corpse pulling out the intestines, removing the guts scattering them about the screaming carcass.  
  
Draco prayed that he would wake up from this nightmare, forget the reality.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
And he did. In a silent scream, Draco, sobbing fell off the compartment seat and into the arms of an extremely shaken Hermione Granger.  
  
"Malfoy!" she cried desperately shaking him awake, "Malfoy! Come on! Draco!"  
  
At that, Draco opened his eyes and stared into Hermione's hazel windows and, breathing heavily, managed to whisper, "Help me, Granger!" before rolling out of Hermione's arms and onto the floor.  
  
"Mal - Draco, are you all right? How do you feel?"  
  
Draco didn't answer simply turning his face towards the girl kneeling by his side asking, "Are we there, yet?"  
  
"The train stopped just as you fell off the seat," she paused, "Come on, Malfoy. I'll help you out and into a carriage before anyone sees your face."  
  
Malfoy stared at her as she grabbed his arm and began to pull him up. "Why are you helping me, Granger?"  
  
"Well, aside from asking for my help, you were hurt and looked like you needed help."  
  
"I'm not weak, Granger! Malfoy's are never weak!", he retorted a little louder than necessary, "I don't need your help!"  
  
"Sorry, Malfoy, but as a prefect it is my duty to help you. Plus, although I personally wouldn't mind, your *bad-boy* reputation would go to the dogs if you collapsed in front of everyone.  
  
"Bloody hell!" muttered Draco, "What would Weasley say if you were helping me?" The trademark smirk was back as they left the compartment and exited the train quickly climbing into the first carriage.  
  
Hermione, utterly shocking Draco, laughed, "What would he *say*, Malfoy? More like what he would do! Though he might be too thoroughly shocked to say anything at all if he heard everything you muttered in your sleep!" She was joking, dipping her toe in the well of blackmail, but was not prepared for the immediately paling of the boy in front of her.  
  
"W-what d-did I say??"  
  
A pause. Then Hermione said dismissively, "Nothing, Malfoy. Just come on and."  
  
"No!", he yelled defensively, "Tell me."  
  
"I was joking, Malfoy. J-O-K-I-N-G! You know what I mean don't you? The kind of thing that makes you smile and laugh meant for just good fun."  
  
Draco scowled and took off for the school entrance. Hermione rolled her eyes and followed wondering about whether it was necessary to report a fight before school. They were the first ones in the Great Hall and so Hermione went to help Malfoy, who was walking strangely taking deep shuddering breaths. His chest seemed to heave painfully with every breath and Hermione noticed that he kept his left arm cradled to his body. As she was helping him walk to the Slytherin table, there was a strangled cry behind her and with the thunder of pounding feet and a glimpse of flaming hair, Ron jumped from behind Hermione, slammed into Draco, and began pounding him into the floor.  
  
"That'll teach you to hurt Hermione, you Filthy Little Ferret!!!!"  
  
Hermione screamed, "RON!!! No!! Leave him alone!!!"  
  
Malfoy tried to defend himself, but his numerous injuries and the sudden onslaught prevented greatly limited his movement.  
  
Suddenly two dark figures jumped in front of Hermione and grabbed the two boys pulling them apart despite Ron's still flailing fists.  
  
"Well, well, well," said one figure, and Ron, Hermione, and Draco stared up into the obsidian eyes of Professor Severus Snape.  
  
**~~**~~**~~**~~**  
  
Author's Note: Wow!!!!!! I finally finished this chapter and I'm pretty pleased with it. The sad thing is that I cut it into two parts, so this is the first part. Next part is chapter five. Thank you to all those wonderful wonderful wonderful people who have reviewed my story so far. I can't thank you enough! Read and Review! 


	5. You Think That’s Air You’re Breathing No...

Disclaimer:  J.K. Rowling is British. I am a proud Canadian. Thank you!

Note: Once again, thank you to all the wonderful reviewers. I guess only Angel and I are reading this fic. Oh well

**~~**~~**~~**~~**

**Shrine To Dreamtime**

**Chapter Five: You Think That's Air You're Breathing?**

Tender feet crept through the dank stone hallway, tiptoeing to the door, and shyly bristling through the slender wooden door into the comfortable carpeted room.

"You c-called, my L-Lord?"

"Yes, Wormtail. Has he arrived, yet?"

"Yes-s, my Lord. He is waiting to attend your wishes."

"When will he be ready?"

  
"Next week, my Lord, the plan begins."

"Excellent." Red eyes glinted in the darkness.

"S-shall I show him in?" Scuffling of nervous feet filled the silence.

"Yes. Bring him in, Wormtail. And milk Nagini. I will need my energy for tonight."

"Yes, my Lord." More scuffling and the closing of a door.

Lord Voldemort, facing the mauve shimmer in the candle flame, hypnotized by the hidden darkness amidst a bright flame, grinned to himself, only waking from his trance at the sharp rapping on the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come in Severus."

A door slid open to reveal Severus Snape in elegant midnight robes, face alit with the shining mist hovering above the goblet in his hands. With a sweep of a robe, he swooped into the room gracefully landing before a shabby desk at which the old, shabby Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher now sat, tawny streaked silver-grey hair creeping into his face giving him a wolfish appearance.

"You should drink that immediately, Lupin."

Yellow tinged hazel eyes glanced up as Remus Lupin removed the spectacles from the tip of his nose. "Won't you have a seat, Severus, and relax a bit before the students arrive." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk.

Snape paused deciding whether to remain in the presence of a werewolf or not and finally, gracefully, descended into the opposite chair, visibly relaxing for the first time in years.

"You look dreadfully exhausted, Lupin."

Remus let out a loud bark, "Oh how surprising! With all the beauty sleep I've been getting lately, I should look nothing short of stunningly beautiful!"

Snape stared at Lupin who had just delivered in his almost Black-like response. "That was most uncharacteristic of you, Lupin. I never knew you used sarcasm let alone understood what it meant."

Remus grinned wolfishly, "I guess you're rubbing off on me, eh Severus?" A perfectly lined ebony eyebrow arched, marking the pale forehead. Lupin continued, "Or maybe it's because you just never took the time to get to know me."

Snape glared, "If I had taken any more time to get to know you back in school, I would have had your dirty yellow claws embedded in my chest."

Lupin retorted, "I see that you, at least, took the time to carefully observe my claws even if you ignored my gorgeous wolfish appearance. Perhaps you could help me file them down, some day." Rolling his eyes, he lifted his hand to the level of his head and appeared to appraise his fingernails.

Silence filled the room and Remus let out a breath, dropped his head, and slouched in exhaustion, "Can't we forget this, Severus? We are both much more mature and fighting on the same side as well. Can't we forget old school boy rivalries?"

"You cannot forget as long as the past exists. You, especially, should understand that, Lupin." With that, Severus swept out of the room and down the hallway to the Great Hall in a billow of black robes.

  
Lupin paused before getting up and following him. He caught up with Severus just before he reached the Great Hall and placed his hand on Severus' thin, clothed arm. Snape visibly flinched. "It's getting clearer, isn't it, Severus? Something's going to happen. Am I right?"

Snape stopped dead, turned his head and fixed Remus with a blank stare.

"Am I right?" Lupin whispered again. Snape just turned around and burst into the Great Hall, Remus after him, just in time to halt Draco Malfoy's possible demise.

"Well, well, well. Mr. Weasely, fighting already? Tsk, tsk. Let me see, detention for two weeks and 100 points from Gryffindor. Oh Mr. Weasley, you should have thought of Gryffindor before attacking Mr. Malfoy. I don't really think your house could afford to begin with a negative amount of points." Ron's mouth dropped, "Hospital Wing this instant Malfoy! We can't have Slytherin blood spilling all over the floor now can we?" He grinned maliciously at Malfoy, then at Lupin and swept off to the Head table.

"B-b-but…Professor!" Ron now turned for help to Lupin, who, to the utter shock of all involved parties, said, "No 'buts', Ron. You should not have been fighting. You are a fifth year student, now, and I expect much better from you. You could have seriously injured another student." Ron turned a bright shade of red going on plum and abruptly turned away, Hermione hurrying after him. Malfoy paused before leaving, turned to Lupin and said, "Granger helped me when I was hurt. She should be awarded."

It was Remus' turn to be surprised, but he smiled and said, "Well, then, how about 50 points for Gryffindor, and you better get to the hospital wing now, Mr. Malfoy."

Sighing, Draco made his way to see Madame Pomfrey. 'What a day', he thought, 'I find help in the most ridiculous of all places, and get my beautiful face bashed in for it. Ha ha, at least Weasley got what he deserved. I hope Professor Snape lets me have a say in his detentions.'

He felt exhausted and his body was throbbing all over. Before he realized it, he was at the hospital wing. Draco pushed open the door and entered the silent room. Suddenly, he paused.

In the next bed under the blankets was a quivering lump. Draco silently edged forward and the lump began to shake more and more as if sensing another presence invading its personal bubble of comfort.

  
Draco, standing by the bedside, looked down on the shaking form and reached out his hand. His fingers connected with electricity as the form spun around as if stabbed from behind. And Draco was enveloped in a glistening jungle of emerald orbs.

**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**~~**

Author's Note: Now that I've finally got more plot shtuff out of the way, I would like to ask you all again if I should my own character to the story and if yes, then what do you think their role should be?

I'm really not sure if I should continue this story because a) I can't write very well, b) I'm not sure what will happen and c) Did I mention I don't write very well? Should I continue? And if so, where would you like to see this story go? Read and Review. Thanx. 


	6. Well, Hello Again!

A/N: Well, hello again. I know I haven't written in such a long time. Believe me when I say, I did not have time. I have been so preoccupied with getting my grades up, working all summer, and now suffering in university. We engineers don't get any breaks. However, I am so thankful for all the wonderful reviews I have received. I have saved every single review just because they meant so much to me. As such, I have decided to make time to continue with this story just for all the fabulous reviewers. I will be making some small adjustments to the previous chapters because I've decided to set my story in sixth year and not fifth. I hope you enjoy this chapter; it has been written in my notebook for several months and saved on my computer for a few more. So please read, review, and enjoy!


	7. Falling Into You

**CHAPTER SIX: FALLING INTO YOU**

He felt old, deathly old. It was only a month ago that he had turned sixteen, yet it felt like a millennia had passed. Perhaps he was just tired of day to day survival. Perhaps the effort of moving throughout each sunrise to sunset was slowly wasting his soul, giving his mind to blackness. He should just end it. Why suffer for another millennia when he could just end it right now; all he had to do was give in to the luring melancholy song of the void and be swept forever into a mind-numbing darkness. But something always stopped him. It might have been pure coincidence or intentional, but as he stared at the transparent ripples of a white ceiling of water, he knew it could not end like this. He had something more to live for.

Perhaps he was a coward. But, as a true Gryffindor, he was not afraid of anything except the weakness instilled in him by fear. Death, a friend he had come in close contact with throughout his short life, was only the next step, not merely the last. No, he had something to live for and that something, if only a trace of feeling, was enough to suddenly connect him to that thread of light. As he ascended, drawn by that *something*, he though, 'I will show all of them who I really am. I'll prove to them that I'm not the Boy-Who-Lived, that the fate of the world does not rest solely on my shoulders, that I'm just a normal sixteen-year-old British boy, that I'm just plain, old Harry…'

"Potter?" A sharp voice pierced the dense bubble of silence and his ascent was complete. He sensed that "something", but his thoughts were misted by delirium and logic was not one of his strongest abilities at the moment. With a great effort, he opened his eyes to the glare of the candlelight by his bedside and caught a silvery-blue flash in the darkness. His lips parted and thoughts given sound as he whispered in a raspy voice, "Malfoy…"

****

The moment his eye caught the glance of the trembling figure, he was lost. Just one touch, one look and he was swept into a maelstrom of emerald emotions The floor leapt beneath his feet, the world spun about him, and the hospital wing dissolved into mist. In his mind, he started falling into stagnant pools of green…endlessly falling…and as he fell, he observed a whole history of a boy whom he despised with a passion. He saw the shreds of a mind ripped with pain and hatred and at the very heart of those shreds, bared fully to the rough face of the outside world was an innocent soul. That innocence filled Draco with guilt and…horror. Did he really want to hurt such a beautiful innocence? Did he really want to hurt… "Potter?"

Then a wall slammed down over those depths and Draco was greeted with a raspy whisper of someone far too used to pain and death. Those walls were cold subhuman structures still trembling even with the heat of the dancing flames in the hospital wing. Yet it was something behind those walls which called in a whispery distant voice, "Malfoy…", neither a statement nor a question.

Harry collapsed nearly rolling off the small cot and onto the floor. Malfoy reached out with a Seeker's reflex and caught the human rag doll in his arms. Draco lifted Harry back onto the cot just as Madam Pomfrey chose that moment to enter the room.

"Mister Malfoy! What do you think you're doing?!?" she exclaimed rushing to Harry's bedside, "Meddling with my patients! I'll have none of that! Shoo!" She then began feeling Harry's forehead and took his pulse before she noticed blood stained on Harry's bed sheet. A look of horror came into her eyes.

"Oh no, he's bleeding again." She was about to strip the blankets off the half-naked boy when she caught sight of Draco and the nasty cut above his right eye.

Breathing an obvious sigh of relief she said, "Oh! It's only you who are bleeding!"

Draco's, who had felt a strange turning sensation in his stomach as Madam Pomfrey lifted the edge of the blanket, allowed his temper to take control, "What do you mean, 'It's only me?!'" he snapped, but Madam Pomfrey did not pay him one bit of attention as she shooed Draco over to the cot beside Harry's and brought out some healing salves and potions.

"Tut, tut, deary. Have you been fighting with Mr. Weasley again? And at the beginning of the year, too?"

But Draco ignored her, 'Stupid old bat,' he thought. Then as his head basked in relief at the coolness of the healing salve, Draco thought back to that *old bat's* previous words. 'What did she mean when she said, "he's bleeding again"?'

***

Madam Pomfrey had healed his cut quickly with a flick of her nimble wand and some salve and now, as he sat at the Slytherin table watching the end of the sorting ceremony, Draco finally had some time to sit back and think about the strange beginning to what he hoped would be a promising year. Still, he was once again interrupted by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster and mudblood lover.

"Before we begin the start of term feast, I'd like to make a few announcements. Firstly, in light of the Ministry's acknowledgement of Lord Voldemort's (several gasps were heard at this point) return, I must stress the use of caution anywhere outside of Hogwarts castle. I must also mention how important it is in times like these to maintain strong relationships and overcome barriers to discover new friends. As I said before, we are only strong as we are unified. As such, I and the other teachers have modified your schedules and classes and arranged certain enjoyable events throughout the year to keep inter-house relationships developing and strong."

A loud groan arose from the student body at this, particularly those in Slytherin, and one Ronald Weasley.

"I bet he's put all the Gryffindors and Slytherins together. It's bad enough putting up with Malfoy in Potions and Care of Magical Creatures let alone every other class. He's going to be cursing us everyday!" Snickers were heard from surrounding Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs at this somewhat louder than necessary remark.

"Shh, Ron. Listen to Dumbledore!" scolded Hermione as she noticed Malfoy stare strangely in their direction with a mixture of suppressed rage and confusion decorating his countenance.

Dumbledore continued when the Great Hall settled down, "On a happier note, with the removal of the Ministry's influence at Hogwarts, it is my pleasure to announce this year's new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. With the suggestions and requests of surprisingly many parents, I am pleased to appoint Professor Remus Lupin for this position." There was a tumultuous roar from most students especially Gryffindor.

"Now, let the feast begin!"

"Well, at least we'll learn something useful this year," said Ron turning to the table piled high with heavenly food. "But can you imagine having classes with Slytherins? Transfiguration might not be so bad, though." He loudly cleared his throat and did an uncanny imitation of Professor McGonagall. "Today students, we will be transforming humans into animals, focusing on the ferret. Now who would like to demonstrate first?"

Dean, Ginny, and Seamus, who had been listening erupted in bellows and giggles. Hermione chuckled to herself but suddenly frowned as she recalled Malfoy's behaviour on the train and the missing Harry.

"Ron, I suggest we go to Professor Lupin or Professor Dumbledore after the feast and find out what happened to Harry. I'm so very worried. He hardly wrote to us all summer and now we have no idea where he could be!" She was nearing hysterics.

Ron look scared for a moment, but then saw Hermione's distress and began to comfort her. "We'll go find him right after the feast, 'Mione. I'm really worried too."

**A/N: Hey! Hope you like that! I know there wasn't a lot that happened. I have all these great ideas that I'm just having trouble putting down on paper (on the screen, in this case). I just don't know how to fit these ideas together. As an engineer, I have no idea why I'm trying to write creatively. Oh well, hope you enjoyed that chapter. More coming soon!**


End file.
